One-legged world judo champion, Cristofer Rok, told me he had been invited to Havana from his native Santiago by Raul Castro in honor of the three world championships his team had won. Then, of course, he had both legs; an accident caused amputation a couple of years ago. He didn't speak English nor I Spanish, but we managed to exchange names, ages, distances to neighboring towns and meet his sister.

Begging is common in Cuba. Most ask for a bar of soap or a pen, if they don't just say "peso?" Two were cleverer:

Rafael, an English professor whose salary from the previous week - 3.50 CUCs = that many US dollars - had not arrived in his bank account. He, his wife, eight-year-old son and 75-year-old mama had nothing to go on until it showed up. They had just moved to Santiago from the countryside. I gave him moneo nacional worth four CUCs since I wasn't using it. At least it was a different story, and we got to talk. He says he is not a religious person, but reads the Bible in both Spanish and English, especially certain Psalms. He says the best paying jobs in Cuba are the police and military - 17 to 20 CUCs a month, so the jobs are readily filled. He said capitalism didn't appeal since his father had told him that if you didn't have enough money to enter a place or a society, then you couldn't go in. I cited Barack Obama who had a single mother and grew up with modest means. Because he was smart he got admitted to good universities - and voila - he's president. This appeared to make no dent whatsoever in what Rafael believes.

Aimée, a portly young woman in Havana, didn't exactly beg, but did ask if I would buy her milk for her baby. She took me to a store that sells only to foreigners, and I paid $11 for two packages of powdered milk. OK, I got suckered, but I didn't regret it.

Sharing a table at a beer factory in Havana, I talked with two Americans who manned yacht transfers all over the world. They had had close brushes with Somali pirates, but thankfully the pirates preferred the nearby freighter rather than their small yacht (pirates get large ransoms from freighter companies that prefer to pay rather than interrupt delivery schedules). The next question is, "So what do you do for excitement?"

Thanks to the attentive and helpful casa particulares owners frequently met my late-arriving bus with my name on a sign and whisk me away to a restful room:

Havana - Casa Leonel at 362 O'Reilly at Compostela - leonel.talledo@gmail.com, hostelleonol,com, 537-860-0191
Vinales - Casa de Mariela y Sergio, Calle Salvador Cisneros # 173, (048) 793172 696979
Trinidad - Hostal Kiano, Fco Javier Zerquera (Rosario) # 374-B (53) 01 52819553)
Baracoa - Rafael George Quintero and Yainis Martinez Ochoa, at Felix Ruenes #11, phone 053 21 64 3112
Holquin - Calle Angel Guerra #6, Holquin - 461471 - mobile 53 53782308 - house 53 24461471 - ajunco@correosdecuba.cu

Also, thanks to fellow bus travelers who made long rides pass quicker especially – Bernd the Hamburg policeman, Connor the Canadian, Ellsworth the Quebecois and Dieter the South African. Canadians and Scandinavians were predominant among tourists, also German, French and Aussies. Their reason for coming was primarily, "I want to see Cuba before it changes."

I saw few other Americans, although there are many who manage the paperwork (or else come in through Canada or Mexico and hope for the best). The embargo against Cuba complicates travel for U.S. citizens, although this has loosened up a bit recently. I was Belgian this trip – believe me, MUCH simpler than being American in Cuba.